Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast
by whimsycality
Summary: Chance gets a couple of rather unusual clients, in need of his help to escape the government itself. Oneshot Roswell/Human Target XO.


**A/N: **Look at this! No supernatural elements at all! Human Target XO, post grad, polar hints, but can be read either way. No follow-ups planned, but again, if it inspires anyone, let me know. My only disappointment with this is that there isn't more Guerrero, my soulmate, so I may have to do another one…Part of my CGttM series.

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><p><em><strong>Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast<strong>_

The young woman was beautiful, despite the dark circles under her eyes, and her gaze was older than it should have been, but steady. The young man looming protectively over her radiated danger and competence, making Chance wonder why they had come to him, what protection he could provide that the brooding hulk couldn't, and just how bad this particular job was going to be.

Her next words answered his unspoken question, her voice quiet but strong. "We need your help and protection in leaving the country. There is a group of individuals determined to capture or kill us, and despite our best efforts, we have been unable to evade them long enough to successfully cross the border in either direction."

Chance raised his eyebrows and exchanged a curious glance with Winston, who looked as wary as he felt about this 'group of individuals'. Before he could express those concerns, and ask some pointed questions, the girl, Elizabeth no-last-name, gasped and went white. The young man instantly stooped to meet her gaze, hands wrapping around hers protectively. "They found us," she whispered, and then all hell broke loose.

The windows shattered as gas grenades were thrown through, instantly filling the room with noxious green smoke. Chance hit the ground, gun out and ready to fire as he checked to make sure that Winston was equally prepared. He was, and before Chance could reach into his bottom desk drawer for the gas masks kept there for just such an occasion, Elizabeth waved her hand. He frowned, wondering what the hell she thought she was doing, and then his jaw clenched in astonishment as a pocket of clean air bloomed around her and the young man, before growing to include him, Winston, and Guerrero, who had just crawled into the room.

She met his eyes and smiled faintly. "Well, now you know why they want us. If you don't want to help, we'll understand; but, we won't surrender ourselves, so you will probably want to cooperate with us until this has been dealt with."

Winston snorted and Guerrero grinned, a lethal flashing of white teeth. Chance smirked confidently. "I'm not so good with cooperation, but I'm not a fan of people assaulting my place of business either, so I think we can handle it just this once." Elizabeth's smile widened and even the young man, Michael, also no-last-name, looked vaguely amused. Then the men in black suits came through the doors and windows, with their shiny shoes and government issued guns, and everyone's smiles vanished.

Michael moved first, low to the ground and deadly as he took two of the men to the floor, soft thuds followed by the familiar sound of a snapping neck, then another. Guerrero took out the two who came through the window equally as fast, although slightly less clean since he used a vicious looking blade that glittered in the sunlight. Chance and Winston took out the next three between them, and after Chance looked up from his second body, he saw that Elizabeth had killed the last two, although he wasn't sure how, just noting with cool detachment that their bodies were smoking and that the smell of charred flesh had joined the miasma of blood and gas in the air.

"You don't look like you need much help in the protection department," he commented dryly, once Guerrero had returned to the room after checking the perimeter and nodded to indicate that any potential reinforcements had fled, if they'd been there at all.

"There used to be six of us, Mr. Chance," the dark-haired girl murmured softly, leaning into Michael as he wrapped an arm around her waist, his eyes still cautiously scanning every entry point in the room. "We've been running and fighting for three years and we're tired; it only takes one mistake, and then we'll be gone too."

He still didn't know who, or what, they were, but the matching looks of exhaustion, grief, and desperation that flashed across their faces convinced him that he didn't particularly care, and he could feel the agreement of his partners, despite, or maybe in Guerrero's case because of, the dead bodies surrounding them and the high likelihood of more to come.

"I'll help you."

Wouldn't do to ruin his reputation for impossible cases after all.


End file.
